


A storm’s coming (and going)

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, Kink: Urgency for sex, M/M, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the elevator of his apartment building, Michael can feel another kind of storm coming. (Pre-series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A storm’s coming (and going)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rounds of Kink’s 2015 Summer Heat Mini Round. Kink and prompt: Urgency for sex, thunder

A storm’s coming. It’s only 6 PM, but the sky is already a dark greyish orange, the thunder rolling and making the atmosphere unbreathable.

In the elevator of his apartment building, Michael can feel another kind of storm coming from Lincoln. Right next to him, his brother is almost shaking with irritability and anticipation.

The combination of frustration — Michael can be the shittiest little shit sometimes and drive Lincoln over the edge — humid summer heat, and heavy air doesn’t sit well with him.

Or, from where Michael stands, sits so very well.

The second he’s unlocked the door to his loft, Linc grabs and pushes him; he manhandles him like a ragdoll and hauls him to the nearest room, which happens to be the open kitchen where Michael still has to do some actual cooking. Michael would point out he has a perfectly equipped bedroom, with a huge comfortable bed, but he doesn’t have the chance to speak.

It’s all for the best. There is _something_ about being wrestled down and bent over his spotless kitchen counter, having his suit pants and boxer briefs roughly dragged down his thighs; something that his huge comfortable bed could never provide.

Lincoln is nice enough to check the cabinets and fetch a bottle of olive oil. Michael protests that this is extra virgin olive oil, that it costs almost as much as some good wine, but Lincoln’s not impressed. He snickers, makes a rude comment about at least one thing being virgin here, and asks him if he’d rather be fucked dry.

Michael doesn’t bother with an answer. The truth is he wouldn’t mind that much — wouldn’t mind at all — but he does care not to wince every time he moves tomorrow so he shuts up and doesn’t push it further. Useless to say anything anyway since Linc is already slicking himself with the overpriced oil and forcing his way into Michael.

It hurts a bit; just like Michael likes it, just like he was hoping for. His knuckles are white from holding onto the kitchen counter, his ass stretched and already sore from Lincoln fucking into him, his teeth gritted in a futile attempt to not beg for more. He fights Lincoln, enough to have him fight back and make it rougher than it should be, but not so much that Lincoln would actually stop.

At Michael’s so-called moves to elude him, Lincoln grunts and shoves deeper into him. He has only opened his belt and zipper, his jeans are scrapping Michael’s backside, and Michael’s in heaven. Even more so when Linc leans into him, bites the shell of his ear, licks his neck, and reaches around to palm his erection through his pants. Lincoln buried inside him to the hilt and his own cock carefully roughed up, Michael chokes on pleasure and calls Linc a jackass in case it would rile him a tad more.

“I know what you’re doing, Mike.”

“You do?”

Waiting for just the right weather. Pissing him off on purpose. Backing him into a corner. All in all, he’s a nice guy, his brother, but he’s hot-headed: you just need to know which buttons to push. This is pretty much Michael’s only chance to be bent over the nearest piece of furniture, to be used and fucked hard and fast and desperate like now. Most of the time, Lincoln is so nice and gentle, almost too sweet, like to apologize for what they do in the first place.

“Yes. I do.”

He is the nicest guy, his brother, because even though he knows he’s being played, he goes along with it. He doesn’t stop, not even when Michael starts to gasp and doesn’t know if it’s in pleasure or pain, not when Michael’s knees buckle and he keeps standing thanks to Lincoln holding him over the counter.

“More?”

Michael gives a single nod of head, ability to speak stolen. More. And then some more. He comes in his dress pants from Lincoln’s cock pounding into his ass and Lincoln’s hand squeezing his cock.

* * *

Later, he’s sprawled across his huge comfortable bed, naked and worn out, and Lincoln’s face is between his legs. After they were done, he let Lincoln literally pick him up from the kitchen counter and lead him to his bedroom, undress both of them and lie down.

“You’re crazy,” Linc says softly, delicately applying more olive oil between Michael’s buttocks, this time in a soothing way.

That is, in a soothing way until it’s not so soothing so much anymore and becomes arousing, until Michael’s cock starts filling again, until Lincoln kisses his way down to Michael’s stomach. He settles there and licks his lips.

“You don’t have to...” Michael teases.

Lincoln grins at him and gently kisses the underside of his cock. He does not have to. He does crave for it, as bad and needy as Michael craved to get his ass pummeled earlier, and Michael knows it very well. 

The thunder is gone outside, the sky is now quiet and dark, and Lincoln is taking all of Michael’s cock in his mouth, wet and eager. Michael may love the hard and urgent, almost violent way, they had sex earlier, but this works for him too. It sure works for Lincoln, who is sucking him off, eyes trained on his face to gauge his reaction, appreciative grunts finding their way out of his throat and vibrating against Michael’s hard-on.

He takes his time. He’s going to make him pay for the kitchen fuck, but who would resent this kind of payment. Michael bends his knees a little bit to allow Lincoln’s coated-with-oil fingers into him and he surrenders to the rhythm his brother lays upon him. His sheets will be covered in olive oil and as ruined as his suit is marred with their semen and ruined, but that’s most definitely worth it.

Calm after the storm.

END

-Comments and/or kudos are always welcome and appreciated.


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